Remember Me
by DoliInTheSkyWithDiamonds
Summary: Twenty-year-old Helga sees a familiar blonde in the subway... Could it be him? (One-shot)


A/N: Excuse any grammatical mistake. English isn't my first language.

Enjoy.

* * *

REMEMBER ME

The alarm goes off at 7 am, calling me back to the world after a few hours of sleep. I try to ignore it, but the damn sound gets more insistent. I get up like a zombie and turn it off. Lazily I get ready for another day at college. I go to the kitchen; Bob and Miriam get up later, so I have breakfast by myself. I read the news, a woman got attacked at her door house, some dude killed himself by jumping from a 10th floor; I read without choking on my coffee, after all, when you're twenty years old you're already accustomed to this violent society.

I get into the subway to transit my daily route: eight stations in fifteen minutes. It doesn't go downtown but the other way, so usually it's pretty empty, thank Jesus. Getting up early is annoying enough, no need to also travel in a public transport full of people, like cattle to the slaughterhouse. I take a seat and boringly observe the other passengers, all of them seem to be tired and have routine lives just like me. Between yawns, I look away and get distracted by some bug near my foot. I step on it. The train stops at the next station and more passengers get in. I look up, and choke on a yawn.

A short distance away, a blond mane lights up the train wagon. The person turns around and I find a calm face, its features remind me of past and happier times.

I'm not sure till I see, without your notice, your eyes. Yes, green eyes, though darker than how I remember them, with a certain indecipherable nostalgia. But still, you look the same, as beautiful as always… perhaps even more. And I'm still the saddest girl in town.

How long has it been since the last time we saw each other? Ten years… half of our lives. Nevertheless, right now I'm still that little girl; I can't evoke any memory of the second half of my life, not even the news I read this morning. They're completely erased, replaced by a wave of memories from my past life with you; memories that were banished from my mind the moment you left. After ten years I can clearly see them, as if watching a film inside my head. Specially the day you left this town. Since then I've stayed here, searching the echoes of your voice in every house stoop.

There're some lonely nights in which I regret letting you go. I never asked you to stay. I denied the love I had so despairingly confessed before. And now that I find you, the flame that I thought was extinguished by the hourglass' sand still burns. I can love you again and be reborn from the ashes.

I can't tell how long I've been staring, carried away in my own train of thoughts; maybe it's been an hour, maybe just a minute. I don't care if I skip my station or if I'm late to class. But I do feel terrified by the speed of time, as fast as this train. I need to talk to you before you get off this wagon and leave me broken once again. Look you in the eye and maybe remind you that some time ago we were eternal.

I get up decidedly, approach you, and something in my chest tenses… breaks.

"Hey! It's been a long time!"

 _Do you remember me?_ I add in my mind. I wanted to call you _Arnold_ instead of _Hey_ , but your name feels so foreign that I couldn't even pronounce it.

And the dark green eyes meet mine, confused, invading me with the strangest feeling. A timid smile answers:

"I'm sorry; I think you have me confused with someone else."

If the train crashed right now, the impact would be less painful than your words… no, _his_ words. I want to excuse myself with this guy, who looks so similar to you or my memory of you, but my throat has closed up and my mouth is dry. I look one last time at the familiar and yet strange face, not knowing what to think anymore.

I could just ask _Arnold?_ But I don't, because I fear whatever answer I might get. If it's a yes, it means you don't recognize me anymore, and if it's a no, I can no longer recognize you. And frankly, both possibilities are terrifying. Suddenly I'm overwhelmed by the most absolute hopelessness, for I don't want to live in a reality where we're two complete strangers. I prefer the forever young Arnold, the bright green eyed, the Arnold that is here, there and everywhere, the one that remembers me and the one I remember.

I listen carefully to the sound of the subway and think about the Arnold from ten years ago, the Helga before this encounter, the news from this morning and the possible reasons why that guy killed himself.

The train stops at the next station. I get off there.


End file.
